Grass Grows - July 24 2025

 

Grass Grows

July 24 2025

Grass grows in the cracks.

A great poet once wrote

that the crack is how the light gets in;

as if imperfection

is what illuminates

and enlightens us.

But I also find in this 

a lesson in resiliency.

How things find a way.

How cut, grass grows back

time and again,

walked upon

springs up

leaving no trace.  

How it weathers hard winters

and the lure of false springs,

sheltering

in its subterranean lair;

and how it browns in drought-stricken summers,

but when rain finally comes

seems to green-up

overnight. 

It won't remain a perfect lawn

you could putt a golfball on. 

And despite a good day’s work

imposing order

on a disorderly world,

the cracks in the walkway 

won't be manicured long.

Soon enough, grass pokes up

in odd lengths

uneven clumps, 

because in all its imperfection 

life finds a way. 

There will always be cracks

that can't be filled,

spaces

that can't be bridged. 

And plants

compelled to seek out the sun 

competing for life-giving light.

Perhaps we can learn from Kintsugi, the Japanese art;

where the cracks 

are what really matter

what draw the eye;

reminders

that the broken can be repaired,

that there is beauty

in imperfection. 

The cracks in things;

where grass will out

no matter what.

From Leonard Cohen’s Anthem:   “… There is a crack, a crack in everything / that’s how the light gets in.”

The definition of “weed” is purely subjective:  really anything, as long as you find it undesirable! Weeds are opportunists: any empty space, and they avidly fill it. So while we cultivate grass, it’s only desirable if it’s in the right place. Out of place, and it becomes as much a weed as dandelions and thistles.